


Blueberry Muffins and Sketches

by Judayre



Series: Judy is Bad at Titles: the Modern AU [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is a matchmaker, Coming of Age, Dear god the fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Even if they aren't really parents, M/M, Modern AU, Parents need to listen to their children's dreams, Tea Shop, let's jump on this bandwagon as well!, right that's why, trade fic, why do I do these things?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ori is struggling to banish a crush on his brother's new boyfriend.  Fíli is trying to get his uncle to understand that he really doesn't want to follow the family business.  Bilbo just runs the shop they meet in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IronPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronPanda/gifts).



> The trade prompt was a small, out of the way tea shop and interaction between Bilbo, Ori, and Fíli. It got out of hand very quickly.
> 
> As a modern AU, I have had to work out how backstories play out and all the characterization. This means there is a whole lot that is not in this story. Um... It may be the first of a series. How do I do this to myself?

Ori regretted walking out of the house without even a sweater. Running, really. He had run out, with hardly a word to Dori either, and now everyone at home knew what a wreck he was, because he never went out without letting Dori know.

But Dwalin had come into the kitchen, mussed and topless so he had obviously spent the night, and spent it in Nori's room. And while he knew that they were dating, well. It was one thing to see them sitting and laughing together, or even see his brother sneak in to steal a kiss, but seeing the man he'd had a crush on for years the morning after he had.... He didn't even want to imagine it.

He had blanched in shock and dismay and risen so quickly the chair went over backwards with a smash as it met the floor. And usually he would have apologized and set it right, but he was already out the door and halfway down the hall. And out the front door he went, without even a pause to grab a sweater because that would have slowed him down enough for Dori to catch him.

He hugged his sketch pad to his chest and shivered in the worn old Transformers t-shirt that had fit him since he was 14 and that he still wore on days he wasn't planning to go anywhere or do anything. Just another reason Dori would worry and Nori would ask questions later. He couldn't even claim to have realized he was late to something.

But though he knew he should turn around, go home, and apologize, he kept walking. After an hour, he was well and truly lost and somehow that fact relaxed him. He stopped gripping his pad so hard and started looking around, curious about what was in the unfamiliar section of town. It was only when he saw the sign of the shop that he remembered he hadn't actually eaten breakfast.

Bag End, it proclaimed in swirling letters on the window. Tea, crepes, pastries, it said underneath in writing that was far more practical. There was a cheerfully hand painted open sign in the window, and it seemed far more welcoming than eggs and toast at home with his brothers. He smiled as he pushed the door open, hearing the cheerful jingle that heralded his entrance. It was particularly maudlin, but he felt like that was the most eagerly he'd been welcomed somewhere in ages.

There was an older man standing behind the counter, salt and pepper hair cut short and beard neatly trimmed. The left side of his face and head had a mass of ugly scars, and Ori itched to open his pad and sketch, but that would be rude. The man looked briefly terrified, and Ori was confused. He was a scrawny twenty something with a rebellious goatee, and he looked far younger in a t-shirt and jeans.

The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then looked at Ori determinedly. "How can I help you?" he asked, voice slow and deliberate.

Related to the injury? he wondered. It had to be. Some kind of traumatic brain injury. Nori would already be coming up with theories and ideas for accommodating him. But Ori didn't have that training and just moved awkwardly to the counter. He couldn't just ask about it. It was rude.

"What kind of tea do you have?" he asked, and then bit his tongue. Of all the things he could have said, the one that required the most talking was the one to leave his mouth. And now he wasn't sure if he should apologize or let him do his best to answer.

Frustration showed on the man's face as he struggled to gather words, and finally he just shook his head. "Bilbo will be here soon," he said in the same slow way.

"I'm sorry," Ori said, looking down and running his fingers along the edges of the pad.

"Not your fault." And that phrase came easier, obviously well practiced.

He glanced up after they had been silent for what felt like forever but could not have been more than half a minute. "Can I draw you?" he asked, and oh, he thought, Ori why are you such a failure as a human being today?

But though the man looked surprised, he just gave a nod. Ori smiled relief at him and opened to a clean page in his sketch pad. A comfortable silence fell as he began sketching with the man watching upside down. It felt good to lose himself in drawing, and all of his self consciousness vanished into strokes of darkness appearing on the paper and the whisper of the pencil moving. He felt the most himself when drawing.

The sound of a back door opening startled him, although his hand didn't jerk and mess up the drawing.

"I'm back, Bifur!" a new voice called. "Bombur is still getting some things from the market, but he should be back soon. I know you don't like being left alone, but it's Saturday morning and we never--" A small, round man bustled in from the back with a canvas market bag over one shoulder. His eyes rounded in surprise for a moment on seeing Ori. Then he smiled, showing laugh lines that were partially hidden by curls of light brown hair. "I guess you never can tell when you're going to have company."

"Wants tea," the first man, Bifur, said.

"You know how to make tea," the other one said in confusion.

Bifur tightened his lips and looked pointedly at the other man. No words were necessary and after a moment he laughed.

"Of course. You put things away while I tell him about our tea." He handed over the bag, leaning up to give the man a peck on the cheek, and then turned to Ori, who once again felt awkward.

He closed the pad before it could be remarked on, and let his hair swing forward to cover his embarrassment. "I didn't mean to cause trouble," he murmured.

"And you haven't," the man assured. "I'm Bilbo Baggins, the owner of Bag End. You've met Bifur already. It's just the tea and pastries until lunch. Bombur does the crepes and he's still at the market."

Ori hoped his humming noise sounded like agreement to Bilbo, because that was how he meant it. He heard Dori's voice in his head telling him that he should look up and make eye contact and smile, but he was always like this after being pulled out of a drawing. And it had been so nice and quiet with Bifur that Bilbo's cheerful nattering seemed forced.

There was silence for a moment, and when Ori looked up Bilbo was smiling gently at him. "We blend all our own teas, mostly from local ingredients. It's what I was after at the market this morning, actually. Need to make sure everything is fresh. Would you like a run down of them?"

Ori thought about it and shook his head. Dori liked tea, and Ori put up with it but it wasn't really his thing. Bilbo smiled a him again.

"Then let me recommend something." He pulled down a canister and twisted the lid open, holding it out to Ori.  
Ori sniffed it hesitantly. "Peppermint?"

Bilbo nodded. "Peppermint, lavender, chamomile, and rose petals. It's good for helping calm you down when you're under stress. Can I get you anything else before I put the kettle on?"

"Do you have blueberry muffins?" Ori asked hopefully. Dori couldn't stand blueberries and they never had them around the house.

"If you give me half an hour, you can have them fresh out of the oven."

Bilbo bustled away and Ori spent a moment standing awkwardly at the counter before moving to examine the rest of the store. There were several small wooden tables and chairs around the room, none of them matched but all looking comfortable and welcoming. 

Along one wall was a row of shelves that held tins like the one that held the tea. He drifted over to read labels and ingredients. None of it meant much to him, but it was Dori's birthday soon, and Dori liked tea. He resolved to find out what kinds of tea his brother liked so he could buy him some.

Also on the shelf were cheery wooden figures, carved bowls, and long walking sticks. He turned and surveyed the tables again and decided they must have been made by the same person.

The kettle whistled, and he went back to the counter. Bifur was only a few minutes bringing him a steaming mug of tea in a large mug with a handle that his whole hand could fit through. Those were Ori's favorite kind, and he slipped his fingers through to hold the mug between his hands and inhale the calming scent of the tea.

He smiled and murmured a thank you before sitting at one of the tables next to the large windows. He sipped at his tea and tried hard not to think about what would happen when he got home. But, being alone, there was nothing for his mind to do but chase circles around Nori and Dwalin, Dori and the office.

"What's wrong?"

He looked up at the already familiar slow voice and tried to smile. "You wouldn't want to hear it," he said.

"Yes I would," Bifur contradicted, sitting across from him.

And there was something about the difficulty with which the man spoke that made Ori believe him, where he would think anyone else was just being polite. So, keeping his hands around the mug to ground himself, he started talking softly about how he wished he could do more of his art. But Dori always said that no one lived well by drawing, and the front secretary position at Durin Law was a very good job. He had been hired straight out of college with Dori and Dwalin to vouch for him.

And his voice stuttered on Dwalin's name, and he blushed in shame and looked down.

"Dwalin Durin?"

Ori nodded. "He was part of the crew doing construction work on campus, and I always liked drawing them. He said my sketches were good. But what's the point in drawing now? There's no one to share it with."

Dwalin would probably still like to look, but it wouldn't be the same. He was trying so hard to let go of his crush, but it was hard. Even though he had never said anything, there had always been that spark of hope, and now it was gone.

"Thinking too much."

He startled and offered apologies.

Bifur shook his head as if to deny the need for apologies. "You come back," he said. "Draw portraits. People will like to see. They will pay you."

"It's not that simple," Ori protested, but he was smiling. "And I work."

Bifur shrugged like that wasn't important. "Come when you can." He smiled and patted Ori on the head, then rose to go back behind the counter. As Ori watched, Bilbo came out of the back room and held something up for Bifur to sniff. They both leaned close, heads touching over the dish, and Ori wished he had someone to do that with.

He turned to look out the window again, enjoying the warm feel of the mug in his hands, and watched the passersby. Looking through a window always gave him a sense of distance from the world, like he wasn't a part of it. And that made him want to pick up his pencils or paints and copy down what was around him to make it permanent. Drawing was one of the ways he felt like he was connected. It was why he did so many portraits. But since Dwalin and Nori....

He gripped the mug tighter, but was brought away from his spiraling thoughts by the jingle of the bell. It sounded agitated, like whoever had come in had opened the door too hard. He shifted in his seat to see who it was, then ducked down with red cheeks.

Fíli Sixten, the nephew of his boss, had just walked into the store. He was almost three years younger than Ori, but had grown up with money and power. There was a place waiting for him in the firm. He didn't have to worry about anything that Ori did. And here was Ori, drinking tea in a Transformers t-shirt. If the floor opened to swallow him up it would be a mercy.

"He's a tyrant, Bilbo!" the young man exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "I was accepted, and all he can say is-- Do I smell blueberry muffins?"

"That's certainly an odd response to your acceptance. Did you bring the muffins as a bribe?"

Fíli sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Don't," he begged. "It wouldn't work anyway. He's determined to make me a lawyer no matter what I have to say about it."

"You're an adult," Bilbo reminded gently. He held out a tray of muffins. "Take these over there. You can share them."

Ori's eyes widened as Fíli accepted the tray. He was coming over. Panic. It was definitely time to panic. His fingers trembled around the mug of tea, and he brought it up as if he could hide behind it. Footsteps grew closer and he stared resolutely into his cooling tea.

"Your muffins," the blond announced. "Can I share them?"

What? It wasn't like they were all for Ori. But Fíli was obviously expecting a reply, so Ori glanced up. "Of course, Mr. Sixten."

Fíli was taken aback and looked closer. "You're the receptionist!" he exclaimed after a moment. "Don't tell me, I should remember. You're Mr. Conell's brother and your names rhyme. Dori... Ori! You're Ori!"

"Yes, sir," Ori said, honestly surprised that Fíli remembered.

Fíli waved a hand dismissively, dropping into the seat Bifur had pulled out and grabbing a muffin. "You're older than me and working. I should be giving you respect. I suppose I should call you Mr. Conell, but I always think of your brother when I say that. Do you mind if I call you Ori?"

"To be honest," Ori said, wondering where he was getting the courage. "I always think of Dori when someone calls me that, too."

Fíli beamed. "And you call me Fíli, because I'm not a lawyer and you don't work for me."

"Not yet," Ori said hesitantly, picking up a muffin to try and cover up his nervousness. "Didn't you just say you were accepted to law school?"

Fíli made a face. "Police academy. I've never wanted to be a lawyer."

"But Mr. Thorin talks like it's definite," Ori said in surprise.

"Mr.... Thorin?"

Ori blushed. "There are three Mr. Durins in the office. We'd never get anywhere if we went by last names." He took a bite of his muffin, relishing the sweetness of the berries.

Fíli looked intrigued, but answered Ori's comment. "He talks like it's settled because he never listens when I say it's not what I want to do. You're lucky you aren't pressured to do a job you don't want to."

Ori bit his lip and dropped one hand to his sketch pad. Being less wealthy meant that he was under more pressure, especially with such a good paying job. But how could he tell Fíli that? The blond noticed his hand move and his eyes widened.

"Was I wrong? Are you really an artist? Can I look?"

No one had asked to look since Dwalin and Ori worried that Fíli would find him lacking, but he pushed over the pad and turned his attention to eating his muffin, watching the other young man from under his lashes.

Pictures of his brothers, of Dwalin. Of Dwalin and Nori together, Dwalin kissing the knuckles where their fingers intertwined. The view from his room. The break room at work. A dog that was tied up outside the food co-op when he stopped in for bread. He smiled at the memory of that picture. The dog had climbed into his lap as soon as he sat down nearby, but didn't get in the way of his drawing hand, so the dog in the picture was right up close and looking like it was going to lick you.

"Why isn't this one finished?" Fíli asked when he got to the sketch of Bifur.

"Mr. Baggins came in."

"Why don't you go finish it now?"

Ori shrugged. "It's never the same when I go back to one."

Fíli was silent a moment, then looked up. "Would you draw me?" he asked.

Ori stared, then nodded, pulling his pad back into his hands and turning to a fresh page. He smoothed it down carefully, and began sketching, heart beating hard. It always did when he was asked to draw something. He was gong to be judged, and he always worried that he wouldn't measure up.

Fíli finished eating his muffin, and when he saw that some movement didn't throw Ori off he began feeding the artist. Ori's cheeks burned, but when a piece of muffin was held out to him, he opened his mouth for it. He titled the picture "Officer Fíli Sixten" and carefully tore it from the pad to give it to Fíli. He had learned to do that years ago, after a classmate destroyed his entire sketch pad because she didn't like how he drew her.

Fíli didn't look angry, though. He was running his fingers over his nose and cheeks as if seeing if it was really him in the picture. A smile crept across his face and he looked up at Ori. Before he could say anything, Bilbo called out to them from the counter.

"It's a beautiful day, boys. Go take a walk."

They rose obediently and Ori reached for his wallet to pay. His eyes widened as he patted all of his pockets and realized he had left it at home. Fíli pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to Bilbo without comment.

"I'll pay next time," Ori said as he held the door. It didn't occur to him until hours later, when he was home and looking through the sketches he'd done on their walk, that he had arranged what sounded like a date with his boss' nephew.


	2. Mediation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo pushes the relationship along.

Bilbo manned the teapots and front counter, and Bombur did the cooking in the back. Bofur had taken Bifur to a doctor's appointment, which was a shame because it was very busy and they could have used the extra help. As he sang out a name to let the customer know his order was ready, the bell jangled over the door. He looked up automatically and saw Ori enter.

The boy looked slightly dazed at how crowded it was and hung awkwardly at the back of the room where he wasn't in the way. It made Bilbo smile. He was glad the boy had come back. It had been more than a week, and he was starting to wonder. But Bifur spoke about him more than once in his mix of easy sign and more difficult words. And that said all that Bilbo needed to know.

Ori hadn't been afraid of Bifur, and that was a thing that happened with sad rarity. Bifur was sweet and gentle, but the scars from the accident were very frightening. Bifur had told him more than once in the last week: Ori wasn't frightened of him. And that would have made Bilbo welcome someone far less young and innocent than the boy who was waiting patiently for business around the counter to die down.

It did, finally, everyone seated with tea and crepes. The regulars called from one table to another, asking about work and family, discussing the gossip and goings on around people they knew in common. It was the time Bilbo liked best. The work part of his job was done and he could enjoy the company of his customers.

Ori moved forward, eyeing the crowd warily. He looked far more his age this time, with his reddish hair slicked back neatly. He was in a white button down shirt and black slacks, and that added to it as well. Bilbo had thought he was a high school student until Bifur had mentioned the boy worked for Durin Law.

"How can I help you?" he asked with a smile.

Ori gave a quick, wavering smile in return. "It's my brother's birthday next week. He likes green tea. I thought...."

Bilbo's smile widened. He really was a good boy, even if his self esteem needed a boost. Perhaps.... Well, he didn't want to get ahead of himself. "I'll tell you about our green tea blends and we can pick one out together. Does that sound good?"

The boy smiled, lopsided and sweet, and they bent their heads over the open tins of tea. They finally chose three: one plain, one sweetened with berries, and one with a mild smokiness. Bilbo wrapped the three tins in a piece of muslin cloth, throwing in a tea ball when Ori was fishing his wallet out of his pocket, and tied a ribbon around the top to hold it closed.

"Did you bring your sketch book today?" he asked as he rang up the purchase and pulled out the boy's change.

Ori's eyes widened in surprise and he shook his head. "I left my bag at home after work. The pad is in there."

"Pity," Bilbo sighed. "Bifur said you were good and I was hoping to see your drawing of him." He smiled then. "And I'm not the only one. I think most of the regulars are intrigued by the boy who caught his attention. He doesn't talk much, as I'm sure you understand, especially not about people. Oh! Kíli is playing for us tomorrow night. You should bring your sketch book and draw. Double the entertainment, and they'll all be prepared to tip well."

The boy was blushing now. "It's just something I do. I'm not that good at it." He held the present tightly, curling in on himself.

"I'll have to disagree with that assessment."

Ori himself might not have noticed how quickly he perked up at the voice behind him, but Bilbo did. He straightened automatically, and the embarrassed flush turned to a pleased warmth in his cheeks. Fíli stood behind him, arms folded across his chest and a satisfied grin on his face. Bilbo wasn't sure why he had only mentioned the one violinist, but now he was glad he had. It was hit or miss if the mention of Fíli would draw Ori in or make him flee.

"I'm really not," Ori said, but the sweet smile was back and it obviously affected Fíli.

The young blond's color rose and he leaned in closer. "You are," he argued, voice dropping to make Ori lean in as well. "I have the proof on the wall of my room."

Ori ducked his head shyly, looking up through his lashes. "I had a good subject," he murmured, and Bilbo had to physically cover his mouth to keep from giving in to peels of laughter.

They hardly seemed to realize they were flirting, and he didn't want it to stop. This Ori was so much more open than the one who had sat looking out the window without seeming to realize that time was passing. This Fíli was happier than the one who usually came in to complain that the uncle he loved didn't see him as an adult.

"I should go," Ori said softly, and Bilbo looked up to see dismay written on Fíli's face.

"But you said you'd pay next time. Bilbo, do you have blueberry muffins?"

"Give me half an hour and I will." Bilbo turned to move into the back, but Ori's voice stopped him.

"If we're going to stay, I'd like to try the crepes."

Fíli looked at him and smiled a slow, wide smile. "We can get one and share?" he asked. And Bilbo had been wrong, because Fíli was obviously aware he was flirting.

Ori's eyes went wide, so he had figured it out as well. Would he run? Bilbo held his breath. Color rose in his cheeks again and he smiled as he looked down. "I haven't decided if I want sweet or savory," he said and Bilbo was rocked by his boldness.

Fíli reached out a hand to turn him back to the counter and stepped up next to him. "How about one of each?"

Ori's smile at the touch was equal parts pleased and embarrassed, and it took him a long moment to lean into Fíli's shoulder. "I thought the spinach and feta sounded good. And blueberry? Can we get a blueberry crepe?"

"Bombur--"

"On it!"

Bilbo smiled. No matter how much Bombur said Bilbo was a busybody, he was just as busy listening in on the boys flirting.

"What would you like to drink?"

Fíli slid his hand up Ori's back to rest on his shoulder. "Can I order the tea?" The redhead looked lost between being uncomfortable at the touch and wanting to press into it. He nodded and squirmed, shooting pleased smiles at Fíli from under his lashes.

They stood at the counter and chatted with Bilbo about work and school while they waited for their food to be done. Bilbo smiled the entire time and didn't mention that Fíli's arm never moved from its place around Ori's shoulders. Bombur brought the crepes out from the kitchen so he could get a look at the young man who had caused such a stir. He watched them walk to a table, leaning on the counter.

"Bifur will be pleased," he said. "He's said that Fíli needs a distraction from arguing with Thorin for years. Maybe if he's getting some he'll calm down enough to make his point."

"Bombur," Bilbo admonished, nudging him. "Look at them. They're no more going to jump into bed than Bifur and me."

"And thank goodness for that," Bombur said, making a face. "If you're going to start talking about your love life, I'm going back into the kitchen." He suited action to speech and left a laughing Bilbo to reign over the front of the store.

Bilbo's attention was taken by customers who had finished eating and were bringing their dishes up to him and paying, and new customers putting in orders. He glanced over to Fíli and Ori's table when he got a chance in between cleaning and brewing. They had their heads bent together over the table, talking and laughing, and they were feeding each other from the plates of crepes. Bilbo let himself smile and turn his attention to his other customers and friends.

Bifur and Bofur got back before much longer as the earlier rush cleared out. Bilbo smiled, reaching for Bifur's hand. "What did the doctor say?"

It was a familiar wait to let Bifur answer the question. He had long ago gotten over the instinct to try and answer his own questions or offer suggestions for words. What Bifur needed was time, and Bilbo was only too happy to give it to him.

"They took blood for tests. Everything looks okay." He gave Bilbo's hand a squeeze, knowing that he worried about long term effects of the accident. They all did, but Bifur refused to be coddled, so he helped in the shop like his cousins did, and did his share of chores in the apartment upstairs. They still watched over him quietly, although not so subtly that he was unaware of it.

"Your new friend came back," Bilbo said, knowing there was nothing else to be said about the appointment. He used his free hand to point out the table where the boys were.

They had finished the crepes and were both leaning over napkins that Ori was doodling on. Fíli was laughing at whatever was being drawn, and it was a pleasant change from the norm. The closer he got to graduation, the more intense the arguments with Thorin had become. The rows between Thorin and Dwalin when Dwalin had gone into construction work had been legendary, but they had only led to Thorin being even more insistent with his nephew.

He heard Dwalin's name leave Fíli's lips, and all the color and life drained from Ori's face. Fíli looked concerned and reached out a hand, but Ori shied away from it and rose.

"I have to go," he said, but he wavered for a long moment, expression lost and unsure. Then he reached out, took Fíli's face in his hands, and kissed him hard. He plucked his brother's present off the table and fled, blushing to his ears.

"I don't understand," Fíli complained, coming to the counter.

"He likes Dwalin," Bifur told him.

"Of course. Everyone likes-- Oh." Fíli slumped and touched his lips, brows drawing down in worry and unhappiness.

Bifur reached across the counter to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Might like you more," he said in his slow, deliberate voice, and Fíli perked up.

"He might!" he agreed. "We were having a good time, and I made him laugh. But...." His face fell again, thinking of how quickly the other boy had vanished once Dwalin's name came up.

"Trust him," Bilbo advised. "This is new for both of you. Trust that he won't lead you wrong."

"I don't want him to lead me," Fíli answered with a frown.

"Then trust," Bifur started, and they both waited quietly while he pulled the words together. He signed them first, because that came easily, and Bilbo nodded. "Trust he won't make you wait long."

"Is he worth trying for?" Bilbo asked as Fíli wavered. "You don't know him well."

"He is," the boy said firmly. "I want to know him better. But if-- How can I compete with Dwalin?"

"It's not a competition," Bilbo pointed out. Then he smiled and point out, "And you weren't the one to initiate that kiss."

"I wasn't," Fíli repeated, voice flat and rote, and then his lips stretched in a smile and he said it with feeling. "I wasn't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is a busybody. Bombur is right about that. But he has the best of intentions! (Also, Bombur eavesdrops, so he's a busybody too.)


	3. Violins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli feels like an adult and brings things to a happy conclusion.

It had been a very good day. With two pieces of encouragement, he had finally pulled himself together enough to make himself understood. Officer Fíli Sixten, said the sketch on his wall, and he'd been staring at it for almost two weeks. He didn't know why Ori had written it on the picture, but staring his own smiling face with that title made him feel even more that he could do it.

And last night he had met the other young man again. They had sat and laughed, and though the subject of police academy hadn't come up, their families had. Ori had doodled Fíli's uncle and lawyer cousins, silly caricatures of how they were at work. Thinking of Thorin without anger was something that hadn't happened recently, and reminded Fíli of just how much he really loved and respected the older man.

The napkin doodle of Thorin was on his wall as well. He was wearing a suit and tie that looked like armor and holding an oversized pen that seemed to be a sword. He sat behind his desk like it was a six foot wide shield made of oak.

Fíli had laughed to think of his uncle hiding, because he had never seen his uncle be anything but strong. But the idea stuck in the back of his head after Ori had run off. He still thought of his uncle as he had when he had been a child, and still acted toward him based on that thought. No wonder he was still treated as a child.

That morning, he had looked at the two drawings and taken strength from them. Thorin was at the table when he got down to breakfast, drinking his coffee and reading the morning paper.

"Uncle," he said, voice calm and even, eyes steady and firm, hands clenched behind his back and shaking with nerves, "I'm going to police academy."

Thorin had looked at him gravely, a hint of pride in his eyes, and nodded. "If you are certain that's what you want to do with your life, I will not stand in your way."

Fíli was walking on air through the rest of the day, and it was a good thing he was already acing his classes, because he heard nothing in them. Thorin had given in to him and acknowledged him an adult who could make his own choices. He wished he had gotten Ori's number so he could let him know and thank him for the encouragement.

Coming to Bag End to play with Kíli wasn't the chore he had expected it to be. When he had agreed earlier in the week, he had still been fighting with Thorin and the idea of playing music was an almost physical pain. But Kíli loved to play with him, despite being worlds better on his violin, and he had agreed to see the brilliant grin on his brother's face.

But now, he felt like he could do anything. Playing harmony to his brother's sparkling melodies would be the cap on a beautiful day. Kíli loved playing the violin, and had put more hours into it than Fíli had ever put into anything. He had written music for it since the age of seven, when he was playing songs that were two notes played over and over until his older brother carefully took the violin away from him and then shoved his face in a pillow.

He always laughed at that. Kíli was all laughter, and even in the worst of times it helped Fíli keep grounded. That was one reason he would always agree to play with him at Bag End or at the college. He didn't put the effort into it that Kíli did, couldn't have gotten a following on YouTube like his brother had, but he could follow what Kíli was playing. They had played classical music together often enough at practice that he could pick it up within a few bars, and he knew Kíli's style of music composition well enough to follow that as well.

There was a crowd at Bag End that night, as there usually was when they played. People drummed on the tables and hummed along. Kíli kept up commentary between songs, laughing with the people he knew and meeting the ones he didn't. Fíli let him, grinning from the back of their playing area and keeping to himself. Kíli was the social one of the pair of them, flashing and merry, brilliant and sudden as lightning. Fíli was steady, always aware of consequences, ready to see things through, and slow to make decisions. Always, except when he had put his arm around Ori for sheer joy of contact.

"Fíli! There's an artist here tonight!" Kíli exclaimed as he came back after a break for drinks.

Fíli nearly choked on his iced tea. "Artist?" he asked, hope rising.

"I think it's uncle Thorin's secretary," Kíli answered, crashing into his seat next to his brother. "I couldn't get close enough to tell. He's talking to Bofur, probably about some kind of art thing, and there are people all around him!"

The blond shivered in delight and tried to peer through the crowd, hoping to see him. There were too many people. Bilbo never had a problem staying open late for them, because it brought in so much business. The scent of crepes and tea filled the space almost cloyingly, and there were times Fíli had to go take his breaks outside to get away from it. But tonight he was afraid to leave the confines of the store. Until he knew that it was Ori, until he was able to see him, talk to him, kiss him, he couldn't go. Ori might disappear again.

The feeling got into his bow, and he played as if to draw Ori closer to him. Kíli shot him a concerned look, obviously noticing, and several customers moved across the room toward them, drawn to the longing in the music. But Ori didn't appear.

Perhaps Kíli had been wrong and it wasn't him. Perhaps the kiss had been a good bye, or had meant nothing. Perhaps he was just being tolerated as the boss' nephew. But no, that couldn't be. He remembered the walk they had taken that first Saturday together and all the things they had talked about, and he wasn't just being tolerated.

He closed his eyes and played, imagining Ori appearing out of the crowd and watching him. Would he be pleased to see him? Or would he wish he hadn't come to Bag End? Fíli heard Kíli's music wind over and around his own, and did his best to turn the music into a spell to summon him.

There was a gasp and Fíli's eyes flew open. There at the front of the crowd was Ori. He had on a soft, baggy purple cardigan over a gray button down shirt. His hair was loose and hanging around his round eyes. He clung tightly to his sketch pad as if that was all that was grounding him.

Fíli's bow slowed and he transitioned smoothly into a new song, for once making Kíli follow his lead instead of the other way around. He had spoken the truth to Bilbo. He didn't want to be led, and he did want to know Ori better. He wanted Dwalin's name to mean nothing more than friendship, and his own to be the one to make Ori's heart race. He wanted to be able to be selfish and jealous of Ori's smiles.

Their eyes caught and held as Fíli played things that he already knew but couldn't out into words. Ori's already wide eyes darkened and he trembled. Fíli was afraid he was going to run again, but he stood firm, keeping their gazes locked, and Fíli's heart soared.

The song trailed off and there was an almost expectant silence. There was a shuffle in the crowd and Ori was knocked forward. It seemed like an accident, but Fíli, glancing quickly over the crowd and then back to Ori, saw Bilbo and Bifur, their hands twined, slipping away back to the counter.

He caught Ori in his arms, careful of the violin he still held. Around him, he was aware of Kíli's voice telling the customers they were done for the night. But most of his attention was on Ori, willing him to look up again, to stop trembling and tell him it was okay. His violin was tugged out of his hands and he was able to properly hold Ori, guiding him through the disbursing crowd and out the door.

"I'm awful," were the first words out of Ori's mouth when they were alone.

"You're not."

"I am! I was worrying everyone, rude and unfriendly because I was jealous of my own brother's happiness. And then I was with you for a few hours and I haven't thought about Dwalin since then. I'm awful, and fickle, and I don't know why you would want to--"

Kissing him seemed the only proper way to stop the flow of self hatred, and Fíli pulled him in tight, arms around his waist as he did so. Ori returned the kiss, arms winding around Fíli's neck, and his pad slipped to the ground unheeded. It was like the other kiss and unlike it. It was hard and daring, and Fíli could feel the desperation in it like he had then.

But the way Ori was holding him was different. He wasn't going to run this time. Fíli knew he had earned the right to sooth him. He had asked a question with his music, and this was his answer. This young man, warm and responsive in his arms, was his to kiss, his to hold, his to love.

"You've changed me too," he said when they parted, leaning their foreheads together and breathing each other's breath. "And I don't want to go back to how I was. I want to go forward, with you next to me." It was as much of a confession as he could make with words.

Ori recognized it for what it was. He leaned in and kissed him again, long and soft, holding him tight as if he was never going to let go. Fíli's eyes closed as he responded, feeling how he was pressed against the wall with Ori flush against him.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed there, kissing outside the restaurant. It felt like forever, and it felt like a moment, and all he knew was that when Ori pulled away from him he didn't want to let go. His arms tightened and Ori laughed breathlessly, pressing his hands to Fíli's chest and leaning in to steal one last kiss. Then he squirmed away and crouched to pick up his pad.

They walked back inside together. It was quiet, a big change from the crowd during the performance. Kíli was at the counter, chatting with Bilbo and his family and munching on a muffin. He turned as they entered and waved them over, pointing to the plate the muffins were on.

Brushing against each other while they walked wasn't accidental like it had been on their walk, or embarrassing like it had been the previous night. It was comfortable, and their fingers wrapped around each other. Kíli looked thrilled to see it, and Bilbo looked smugly satisfied, and Fíli made faces at both of them.

"Kíli," he introduced when they reached the counter. "You've met Ori Conell, my boyfriend."

Ori's face flamed, but he didn't negate the comment, and didn't let go of Fíli's hand. "Mr. Sixten," he murmured in greeting.

"No no, it's Kíli!" Kíli laughed. "Kíli, if you're dating my brother. Are you sure you want him? He's an awful grump."

Bofur shushed him by sticking another muffin in his mouth, and Kíli's eyes sparkled merriment behind it. Bifur smiled happily at them and held out the plate. They were blueberry, Fíli noted as he took one. He pulled Ori close, and the other man snuggled under his arm and let Fíli feed him. Across from them, Bilbo smiled and took Bifur's hand. And Fíli smiled back at all of them, feeling that the night was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other stories from around this that are in my head:  
> 1\. Bilbo taking in Bifur and his cousins (there is so much to that story).  
> 2\. Bilbo and Dwalin being friends.  
> 3\. Dwalin and Nori getting together.  
> 4\. Dori raising his brothers, and Nori's troubled past.
> 
> Not nearly as much about Thorin and the other "royalty," but they're there too. I never mean to start series. Why can't I just make a one shot when I mean to?


End file.
